


Lulled by Numbers

by sisyphvs



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a questionably happy ending, Assisted Suicide, Canon-Typical Violence, Little Dialogue, M/M, THIS IS SOME SAD SHIT, Walrider Miles Upshur, mostly friendship stuff but tagging it as camerashipping feels right, slight Camerashipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24977290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisyphvs/pseuds/sisyphvs
Summary: He's lost everything and everyone he had ever loved. And now, he's choosing to come back to the one place that started it all.
Relationships: Waylon Park/Miles Upshur
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Lulled by Numbers

**Author's Note:**

> TW for: Eventual assisted suicide (as stated in tags) and violence

Waylon Park has lost _everything._

His family had disappeared, as if they have been wiped out completely from existence. He's come up with the conclusion that they're all dead--and the worst part isn't just that they're gone. It's that Waylon knows how scummy Murkoff is to _only_ rid of his dear Lisa and his two sons. They're all filled with their cruel greed to despise him so much for exposing their true nature.

And thus, this leaves him all alone as he tries to pull his way through a storm in the newest chapter of his life. The storm was moving on from the terrible, unforgettable things he'd experienced, and not just that, but heaving through it all alone.

However, since Waylon is alone, there is no light he can reach out to in order to guide him through this storm, and it certainly isn't the kind anyone could just wait out. 

Sure, he could call for help and hope for the best in the next years-- but all forms of hope seem futile now. Counseling _might_ help, though it won't erase everything he saw in that damned asylum and everything else that's happened to him.

Hell, the man doesn't even know what to live for anymore.

And so, Waylon felt like he had one last option, as he anxiously stood right in front of the big doors leading to the inside of that very same asylum. _He was going back to Mount Massive, to purposely end his life somehow._

Waylon was shaking.

It wasn't because of what he was going to do, it was because of the awful familiarity the whole place had. The type of familiarity that shoots you in the head with memories you'd wish to forget.

He then gulps down the lump that had formed in his throat as he took a few steps in, his shoes making dull thumps as his body was still trembling. 

Since the doors were just wide open, a cold breeze had flown through Waylon, making him shudder and clutch his jacket tightly. And at the time he was already in here, he had vaguely considered coming back home to figure out a plan for him to just start a new beginning altogether. However, it seemed too late for that now.

Waylon paces through the inner area of the main entrance, millions of thoughts eroding through his mind. It seemed as if he was waiting for a variant to just come out here and kill him already-- but it was simply just eerily vacant. This makes him regrettably jostle through his memories of the monsters he had come across here. 

_Walker, Gluskin--_

The thought of these names alone already make him _shudder_ and bring a tear to his eyes. He doesn't want to remember these, but they're already carved into his mind. 

Waylon can't believe he's actually trying to put himself back into his previous awful predicaments. He was a _survivor._ He was supposed to be strong-- _proud,_ and have the drive to heal and move on. But he feels as if he has none of that.

However, he also came here to see a certain person. _One more time._

_Miles._

Miles Upshur however, has ultimately turned into something else. A mere host for a parasite to linger around in. And Waylon himself isn't even quite sure if it's still the same person in there. _But that didn't matter._ He knew and remembered Miles as the only hope he had as he explored through the horrors of Mount Massive.

He had felt so _torn apart_ that Miles had left himself to become the Walrider's new host. Though, at the same time, he knew how selfless it was and had always appreciated Miles for that, despite how unideal his current situation was.

The sound of ghostly hissing and footsteps had eventually erupted as it echoed through the area, which suddenly broke the eerie silence and made Waylon jump a bit. And well, Waylon knows exactly where it's coming from but he still isn't quite sure how to process how he feels about it.

Waylon came to a halt as Miles had appeared into his peripheral vision, his eyes fixing onto his face. This definitely isn't the Miles Upshur that he once knew. He's gone now.

His face was _barely_ recognizable. Instead of a pair of brown eyes, he had dark, hollow husks that seemed to ooze and streak down onto his cheeks with some sort of black liquid. It looked like tears, almost. His hair and clothes were both awfully disheveled and caked with bloodstains. 

And Waylon stood there, biting his lips as his eyes began to well up with tears. He sniffles, trying to choke back the tears for what he's about to say. "God, why--why don't you just _kill_ me already?" Waylon cried out, seemingly pleading for death already.

Miles-- _no,_ the figure seemed to stand there idly aswell, before tendrils of dark smoke began to wrap around Waylon's neck, lifting him up a few feet from the floor. It wasn't necessarily a physical force, but it still stung; like a python entrapping it's prey.

Waylon didn't seem to thrash around, he didn't see a need to fight for his life anymore. He looked down at the figure's black caverns for eyes, sensing remnants of the person he once knew. A smirk of some sorts had eventually appeared on its lips as it would proceed to let go of Waylon's neck, tossing him onto the floor in a nearly aggressive manner.

He seemed to fall with his head first as the sound of a sickening crack had erupted from his skull. The sudden, illicit pain was unbearable that it made a shrill, abhorrent scream escape from Waylon's mouth. His tears were starting to flood down onto his cheeks as a pool of vermillion began to form by his head. 

All he could see through the cracked lenses of his glasses now were his surroundings and the figure of Miles beginning to darken and close in on him. But the corners of his lips seemed to tug into a small smile. He knew that he was going to bleed out soon and die, and that it all doesn't have to hurt anymore when he does.

Everything now seemed to fade away, like he's falling through the dark and somehow throwing himself back into the light. But Waylon was at peace now-- he had rested knowing that he was finally able to reunite with the real Miles--and his once beloved family.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This was not meant to romaniticize nor glorify suicide in anyway. I just wanted to write it in 3rd pov but also include Waylon's thoughts in his perspective during his death/suffering.


End file.
